


Second-hand Alibis

by fanaticalgeek



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Iron Bull, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Incessant Flirting, M/M, PURE SICKENING FLUFF, mild panic attack, possible dubious consent similar to how they get together in the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanaticalgeek/pseuds/fanaticalgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian needs money, and Bull can't say no to helping a desperate case. Add a little fake dating trope for research purposes, mix in some angst, and I give you a story of two goobers falling in love dicks first. (If you don't know what a goober is, I'm using it as an endearment for kindhearted, oblivious goofballs)</p>
<p>My entry for the adoribull minibang (2016) [now with art!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second-hand Alibis

**Author's Note:**

> I have to throw out a big thank you to my beta, eosaurora13 (buckysjustslower on tumblr), for being so willing to review this (so many times), even though this isn't one of her main fandoms. She's wonderful!
> 
> Shoutout to the artists who chose my little story to draw: necroman-tic and kidvoodoo! They are fantastic, and it was so great working with them, and they made such beautiful things that you'll see within the story. Thank you for working with me, guys. ^w^ 
> 
> Inspiration for this story came from this post: http://lesbianrey.tumblr.com/post/139998890690/looks-like-the-perfect-opportunity-for-the-fake  
> Several scenes had inspiration as well, and if you guys want the source, I'll add them in :)
> 
> If someone knows how to put clickable links in the notes, can you please teach me? Please and thank you!
> 
> And if I need to add any tags, let me know. I never know what to put on these things...

“Paid Research Opportunity” the neon yellow sign screamed at Dorian as he passed, on his way through the library. Without thinking or reading the smaller text, he snatched the paper down and added it to the stack of job opportunities he’d been steadily accumulating over the last 24 hours. When one has barely escaped with one’s belongings and the contents of a meager account before one’s father blocked all access to any and all money, one becomes less picky about where living expenses come from. Thank Andraste he was on a scholarship that couldn’t so easily be taken away.

Dorian shook his head, not wanting to dwell on the things his father had not-quite-yelled over the phone less than two days ago, not when he needed to focus on applying for a part-time job or two that would work around his class and thesis schedule.

_Kaffas_ , he was not looking forward to the groveling the hiring process required. As progressive as Ferelden could be, prejudice against his country still existed. He’d have to overcome the fact that he did not shy from discussions of his homeland, and anyone could tell his nationality just by looking at him, let alone hearing him speak. It was unfortunate, but that’s just how it was.

Quickly weaving through the maze of bookshelves, Dorian headed for his favorite little study nook, rarely frequented by anyone but himself. Finding his table unoccupied, he quickly settled in and pulled out his laptop, phone, and papers, ready to get to work on his job search. So focused was he that he didn’t notice the giant qunari settled at one of the other tables.

* * *

Movement in his peripheral vision caused The Iron Bull to raise his head slightly, watching the newcomer sit at the other open table.

He was _gorgeous_.

Bull normally had no specific “type”. He liked who he liked, which tended to be everyone. But that ‘Vint—and there was no way he wasn’t from Tevinter, with the way he carried himself—he was like a punch to the gut. In a good way.

Bull couldn’t remember the last time just the sight of someone had affected him so strongly. He shifted subtly in his seat and turned back to his notes, not wanting to be obvious about his staring. It wouldn’t do to have his first impression be along the lines of “Creepy McStalkerface”. But there was no telling when or if he’d see this gorgeous man again…

With a bolstering breath and a vow to back off the second the guy wasn’t interested, Bull set his notes down and stood, slowly making his way to the other table.

[(art by kidvoodoo)](http://kidvoodoo.tumblr.com/post/150128087045/adoribull-minibang-2016)

* * *

A cleared throat and a deep, spine tingling greeting had Dorian startling hard enough that he fumbled and almost dropped his phone. With an exasperated sigh, he raised his gaze to the unexpected newcomer, ready to tell off the person interrupting him—since he’d thought he was alone—and promptly froze when his gaze was met with a plaid button-up that was straining on its last threads over frankly bulging pectorals in a chest that couldn’t possibly be legal.

A low chuckle after who knows how long—no longer than a few seconds, surely—had him blinking out of a lustful trance and darting his gaze up to a scarred, but still handsome face. _Maker, was he missing an eye?_

“Can I help you?” Dorian asked, aiming for haughty, but sounding a bit more breathless than he intended. At least his voice didn’t crack.

The qunari smirked, his body language relaxed and open instead of posturing like the other bodybuilder types Dorian had interacted with before. “I’m The Iron Bull,” he greeted, extending his hand to shake. “And I had to meet the gorgeous ‘Vint who walked into my nook.”

Dorian puffed up, ignoring the hand in lieu of defending the space that he felt was his. “Your nook? I’ll have you know that I spend most of my days here, and I’ve never seen you before.” _Yes, Dorian, chase away the man who just said hello and paid you a compliment._

Bull’s smirk never wavered, nor did his open stance, as he retracted his hand and slid it into his pocket, unexpectedly uninsulted. “Do we need to negotiate joint custody? I have the nook in the mornings, you have afternoons, and we alternate weekends?”

Dorian couldn’t help the snort that emerged, genuinely amused despite his brief ire.

Bull’s smirk widened into a grin, pleased with himself. “I didn’t catch your name…” he prompted gently.

“Dorian Pavus, most recently of…” Dorian caught himself, reminded that he now could no longer claim his home. “Most recently of this fine institution.” He held out his hand to shake this time, which Bull accepted with no signs of ill will from the previous snub. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, The Iron Bull, but I really must work on these.” He motioned to the stack of flyers and applications sitting nearby.

Bull nodded and took a step back. “I won’t bother you any longer, then. Have a nice day, Dorian. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Dorian watched as Bull gave an exaggeratedly slow blink and flirtatious tilt of his head, then walked back to his table— _was that supposed to be a wink? Doesn’t the lummox know you can’t pull off a wink with only one eye?_

Dorian rolled his eyes, surprisingly flustered, and tried to focus on his job search. 

* * *

findingDori: I wanted to climb him like a tree, Mae.

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: Dorian, dear, you know no one there would care.

findingDori: But he’s a /qunari/. Someone’s going to care.

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: And they don’t matter.

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: I thought you left to be free.

findingDori: …That’s part of the reason, yes.

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: Then if you want to hit that, grow some balls and do it.

findingDori: …I don’t know why we’re friends.

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: You know you love me.

findingDori: Debatable 

* * *

“Sir, this is a couples study,” the quiet, but smartly dressed secretary stated, handing the flyer back to Dorian with a flick of her red hair over her shoulder. “That means your significant other needs to be here with you. But if you come back with them, I can set up a meeting with the professor for you.”

Dorian tried not to let his face fall into disappointment. Many of the part-time jobs he had applied for sneered as soon as they learned where he was from. He hadn’t given up hope, and he even had an interview at a local coffee shop in the morning, but he needed something now so he could eat after he paid this month’s rent.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, drawing his gaze as a familiar figure passed by the door. _Could it be?_ It had looked like the massive, stone grey qunari he’d met in the library—those handlebar-esque horns were pretty hard to forget—but it would be just his luck that the Iron Bull had a body double.

“Just a moment,” he told the secretary, darting out the door and, after a second to be certain of the individual’s identity, calling, “Bull! Darling, could you come with me for a moment?”

Bull turned with a confused frown, though he smiled when he saw who was calling out to him. With his eyes, Dorian pleaded for him to play along.

Seeming to catch on quickly, Bull joined him by the office. “Honey! What can I do for you?”

Dorian led the way back inside. “This kind woman informed me we both have to be present for the study, not just me as I thought.” He prayed that it wasn’t painfully obvious that he was lying.

Bull nodded as if this wasn’t the first time he’d heard anything about this. “Well, I’m free for a little while this afternoon. Hey, Lace,” he greeted the gobsmacked dwarf sitting behind the small, black desk.

Dorian could have fainted from relief, but he held it together to turn back to the secretary—apparently Lace, which he’d ask Bull how he knew her later—with a smile.

“Iron Bull!” she exclaimed rather than acknowledging Dorian. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Bull shrugged. “We like to be private, so we didn’t make it public knowledge yet.”

“…Right. Well.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll go see if Professor de Fer is available.” She lowered her office chair to stand, then hurried through the door behind her quickly, not looking back.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dorian spun to Bull, touching his arm and whispering, “Thank you… I’m so sorry to drag you into this. I just…” He grit his teeth, trying to hide how vulnerable he was feeling. “I need the money. But if you need to be somewhere, I can call a friend, and I have a job interview tomorrow—”

“Dorian,” Bull interrupted him, covering his hand. The warmth from his palm caused Dorian’s breath to hitch in his throat. “Breathe. I wasn’t lying when I said I was free this afternoon. I already met with my mentor today.”

“Your…mentor?” Dorian couldn’t quite keep the disbelief out of his voice, but Bull just took it in stride, remaining as unoffended as he had when they met the week before.

“Yeah. My mentor for my thesis for my Psych master’s. That’s why I’m in the _psych_ department.” Bull smiled, patting his hand.

Dorian felt his cheeks heat with shame for automatically assuming Bull fit the “dumb ox” stereotype assigned to qunari.

Before he could stumble over an apology, Lace returned with a tight smile. “Professor de Fer will see you now.” 

* * *

When Bull had heard a somewhat familiar voice calling out to him, calling him darling, he’d been incredibly confused. The only person to ever call him ‘darling’ was Ma’am, and that definitely wasn’t her voice. While he’d been delighted to turn and see Dorian, the pleading look in the ‘Vint’s eyes had made his stomach clench and plucked at his tender heartstrings—his mothering instinct, the Chargers called it.

He hadn’t expected Lace to be the one causing Dorian problems, but he mentally lamented not having her in his bed for a while until whatever this…relationship thing Dorian was roping him into blew over. It’s too bad… She was fun.

But Dorian needed him, however briefly, and if he was allowed a deeper look into what made the ‘Vint tick, then it’d be worth the lost nights of leather with Lace the remarkably kinky dwarf.

The fact that Dorian needed money was a shock to Bull, since Dorian somehow managed to always look, if not wealthy, at least well off enough that his clothes weren’t from the local superstore. If he wasn’t certain that Dorian would puff up like an offended pigeon, he’d offer to give him some money to help him get by until he found a job. Maybe if he offered it as a loan without interest? Wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

After this interview-thing, of course.

He quietly followed Dorian back to Ma’am’s office, giving dumbfounded Lace a little wave as he went. Before they stepped through the door, he gave Dorian’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, trying not to feel too hurt at the startled look he received in return.

“The Iron Bull, darling, I wasn’t expecting to see you in my office today.” Vivienne de Fer sat behind a large oak desk, as straight-backed and calm as any Tamassran Bull had known growing up. Her presence always made him stand a little straighter, bow his head respectfully, feel like a young imekari again… But she also brought a peace to his mind that he rarely had in any other parts of his life. Too bad her area of study didn’t align with his thesis goals, so she wasn’t his mentor, but he often found himself invited to tea and a chat about his life regardless.

He bowed his head, as Dorian again looked at him with disbelief and curiosity in his eyes, greeting her with a polite smile. “I wasn’t expecting to be needed today, Ma’am. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, dear. I always enjoy our chats.” She glanced meaningfully at Dorian. “Though, today seems to be full of surprises.” A perfect, dark brow arched up in an unspoken promise that there would be questions—and answers—later. For now, she gestured with an elegant hand to the two chairs in front of her. “Please, sit, and we can discuss the study. You’ll have a few days to deliberate, and if you wish to participate, we’ll discuss further details at a later date.”

Dorian immediately stepped forward, suddenly all charm and grace as he offered his hand to Ma’am, bowing over hers slightly. “Professor de Fer, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull’s…significant other.”

She hummed, accepting the handshake with a regal air. “Interesting that Bull hasn’t mentioned you during our chats.”

Bull, sat in one of the cushy chairs, spoke up to save Dorian from floundering. “I didn’t want to jinx anything, Ma’am.”

She inclined her head, accepting it for now, which Dorian seemed to take as his cue to finally, gracefully take his seat, one elegant leg crossed over the other.

Without delay, she said, “The study is intended to be several months to a year, depending on how long the participants are able. The longer, the better, and you will be compensated thusly.” Bull shifted, keeping his face blank, but wanting to frown. What am I getting into? But Dorian never moved, listening attentively. “There will be taped interviews each month, as well as some lab sessions at the University. If you are willing to commit to the longer study, there will be home exercises and online questionnaires you will be asked to complete. Again, there is compensation for the additional work.”

Bull glanced at Dorian, catching his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Apparently, this was more than Dorian was expecting, too.

Ignoring their internal crises, Vivienne picked up two clipboards with pens and business cards attached. “Also, if you choose to partake in the longer study, a neutral party will visit a minimum of three times and a maximum of twelve times to evaluate your living space, and note any changes. If you’ll fill out your information, I will leave it on file in the case you decide to commit. My contact information is on the cards in case you have any questions after we’re done here today.”

Bull took both clipboards and scribbled his address on one before handing it to a frowning Dorian. At Vivienne’s arched brow, he murmured, “He moved in recently and has trouble remembering the address, Ma’am.”

Dorian met her gaze as he took the clipboard, as if daring her to call them out on the lie. Damn… That was hot. No one stood up to Professor de Fer. Well…no one who didn’t want to have their ass handed to them on a verbal platter.

Her expression turned almost…approving. “Very well. Do you currently have any questions?”

“When would you need confirmation?” Dorian asked, writing the rest of his information down.

“Would three days be sufficient time for you to discuss it?” Vivienne countered.

Bull nodded. “That’s enough for me.”

With a sniff, Dorian raised his head and handed her the clipboard sans card. “Three days, then.”

Vivienne took their papers and slipped them into a folder sitting on her desk. “Are you ready for the preliminary interview?”

Dorian gestured for her to proceed, looking haughty, as if the proceedings were beneath him.

Vivienne delicately cleared her throat and opened another folder. “Tell me, not in great detail, about the quality of your sex life.”

Bull was certain, if he’d been drinking something, Dorian would have promptly choked. 

* * *

Dorian was boiling with humiliation when he and Bull finally left Professor de Fer’s office. He almost jerked away when a large warm hand wrapped gently around his upper arm, but he caught himself and took a deep breath instead.

“Let’s get some coffee,” Bull suggested, as unflappable as he had been since he was accosted in the hallway.

Dorian supposed he owed him that much, for giving up his afternoon for that catastrophe. “Fine,” he said, barely turning toward Bull.

“Come on, I know a place that’s not too far of a walk, unless you’d rather ride double on my bike?” Dorian snorted as Bull suggestively wiggled the eyebrow above his good eye, feeling some tension inside him ease at the gesture.

“I think I can walk. The fresh air might do us both some good.”

Bull shrugged, smiling good-naturedly. “Whatever you say, hot stuff.”

Dorian huffed and headed for the elevators. “And don’t you forget it.”

He did not smile when Bull followed with a chuckle, thank you very much. He was merely…preening at someone acknowledging his superior looks, despite their bargain price tags.

* * *

Of course the coffee shop Bull led Dorian to—and where he insisted on paying for the medium coffee, black, and some large, sugary concoction that Dorian was frankly scared to learn how to make—was the same coffee shop where Dorian would be interviewing in the morning. At least he’d learn the quality of their coffee before working there, if all went according to plan.

“You sure you don’t want a little cream in your coffee, big guy?” Bull smirked.

Dorian scoffed and lifted the mug to his lips. “As if I would ruin a perfectly decent cup of coffee.” Bull laughed and relaxed in his chair, seemingly oblivious to the goings-on in the shop, but Dorian could see his gaze was sharp as it slowly swept the room, pausing only briefly on individual occupants. Dorian was sure Bull learned much more than the average person, if the way he had maneuvered the situation back at de Fer’s office was any indication. It irked him how much he had apparently underestimated this man when they’d first met.

Swallowing a bit of his pride, even though he hated to be wrong, he cleared his throat. “I expect I should thank you for coming to my rescue, I suppose. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

That sharp gaze returned to him, but it didn’t cut into him as the professor’s had. Instead, it softened as Bull smiled and shrugged. “I got to spend time with a gorgeous ‘Vint, so I wouldn’t call it wasted.”

“Yes, well…anyone would be lucky to spend time in my presence.” Dorian hid his face by drinking more deeply from his mug. And if his cheeks and nose appeared darker, with a red tinge…well, the lighting was off, which wasn’t his fault.

“They would,” Bull chuckled, but didn’t look away, watching Dorian now in a way that caused his heart rate to pick up in anticipation, not fear. “So…how do we want to do this?” he asked, sipping his diabetes in a cup. “I still have at least a year and a half here at the university, and I don’t plan on moving as soon as I graduate, so we could do the longer study.”

Dorian would never do anything as untoward as spitting his coffee all over the floor and his current companion, but it was a near thing. “…What? I think I must’ve misheard you.”

Bull’s smile was patient, not condescending as he had expected. “You said you need the money, right?”

Hesitantly, Dorian nodded, bristling in preparation for a barrage of unwanted questions about his financial situation, but they never came.

Rather, Bull shrugged and patted his shoulder. “Then I have a spare room that you could stay in, and we’ll just move your stuff into mine when the inspector comes around.”

It was too good to be true; there had to be a catch. Was he secretly a serial killer? “…But you don’t know me.”

Another easy shrug. “I know enough. For example, if I offered you the money, I know you wouldn’t take it.”

There was definitely a catch. Somewhere. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. And I can’t ask you to give up your life for a year for someone you met a week ago.”

Again a shrug, his expression never turning displeased or frustrated. “I like helping people. And I’ll be here anyway, so there’s no reason I can’t help you.” His smile turned teasing. “Besides…I have a thing for damsels in distress. And the way you never backed down from Ma’am… That was hot.”

Ah. There it was: familiar ground. Dorian mentally sighed, berating himself for not expecting something along these lines. At least it wouldn’t be a hardship, and he’d given his body for worse things. It would be better—he hoped—than turning to the streets.

“So…what, I move into your spare room and am at your beck and call whenever you have an itch that needs scratching? Are there any other stipulations I need to know about?”

“What?” The qunari looked suddenly horrified, understanding dawning. Had Dorian read him wrong? “No, no, I didn’t mean to imply anything like that.” He looked like he was going to be sick and Dorian’s heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his expression. “I would never…never force myself on anyone who’s unwilling. And I don’t ask for sexual favors in exchange for my help.” Dorian had to look away, down into his coffee, when Bull’s face crumbled into hurt. “I’m sorry that you thought I was capable of that, but no matter what you think of us ‘brutish’ qunari… I’m not a rapist.” His voice was low and serious, but not angry. Just wounded.

Dorian wanted to take it back; it wasn’t right for such a giant, commanding presence to look so upset.

“I…didn’t mean to offend.” Dorian swallowed thickly, cursing himself. Now he definitely wasn’t going to get Bull’s help; there was only so far anyone’s good nature extended. Bull had flirted, yes, but the qunari hadn’t done anything to justify assuming he wanted to use Dorian.

Bull drank deeply from his cup, finishing it off despite the temperature. He cleared his throat after swallowing and looked up at Dorian, his eye creased with pain, but still calm. Dorian wasn’t sure how to interpret the rest of his expression, that particular tilt of his mouth, that slight furrow of his brow, but he found some small part of himself wanted to learn the language of Bull’s face.

“I’m not offended,” Bull said finally, after watching Dorian’s mental Olympics for a moment.

With a skeptical scoff, Dorian met his gaze, about to call him out on it, but his voice caught and he had to look away again when that big gray face never changed in its solemnity.

“Let me give you a ride home, big guy,” Bull offered. “I’ll give you my number so you can let me know if you still want to do this.”

Dorian startled. “You’d…you’d still help me?”

Those mountainous shoulders moved in a much smaller shrug than before. “I like helping people,” he said again, quieter this time.

And this time… Dorian was inclined to believe him.

* * *

Bull couldn’t shake the ache and quiet outrage Dorian’s assumption had caused. Not anger at Dorian…never at someone who thought their only worth was in their body, that they had to sell their body to receive simple help.

No, the voiceless fury was at whomever made Dorian think that every little kindness came with debt and stipulations attached, and that all he had to trade was his body to strangers for those kindnesses.

Dorian had finished his coffee in silence after their misunderstanding, but now he followed Bull to his motorcycle without a complaint but for the trials and unpleasantness of public transportation.

To say Dorian was surprised when they made it to Bull’s baby would be an understatement. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at the large black Harley. Or, more accurately, he was staring at the dawnstone pink flame highlights of his baby.

“That’s…yours?” Dorian asked, with an expression that Bull couldn’t read other than the skepticism.

“Yep. I designed her myself.” Bull straddled the massive bike and clipped on his specially made pink helmet. He held out the spare, non-qunari one. “Safety first.”

Dorian glared at the headgear, as if it had done him some affront, but snatched it and slipped it on over his styled hair. With a grumble to himself, he climbed up behind Bull, settling behind him and trying not to touch.

Bull turned his head to the side, not quite able to see him without knocking him in the head with his horns. “You’ll need to hang on. I don’t bite…unless you ask nicely.”

Dorian laughed and seemed to relax, hands coming up to hold onto his shoulders, his chest brushing against his back. Bull could’ve breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t ruined things between them. That neither of them had.

“Point me in the right direction. It gets hard to hear on this thing.” Dorian’s hand appeared in the periphery of his good eye, thumb up. He started the engine, revving it, and sliding smoothly into traffic, Dorian’s gestures guiding the way.

Bull frowned to himself when Dorian pointed to an older, not quite dilapidated, multistory apartment building, but he quickly smoothed his expression when he parked near the entrance.

“Please tell me you don’t walk to the university from here,” he said, careful not to hit Dorian with his horn as he dismounted.

“Of course not. I take the bus like the uncivilized beings.” Dorian took off the helmet, handing it to Bull with one hand while the other attempted to fix his hair. “Do you…want to come in?” His expression was hesitant, but otherwise inscrutable.

“Depends… Do you actually want me to come inside or are you just saying that because you think you have to?” Bull kept his voice neutral to avoid swaying him one way or the other. Manipulation was never a good way to start off a fake relationship…

Dorian seemed to have an internal debate with himself before he took a deep breath and steeled his spine. “Do you like tea?”

Bull slowly grinned. “Almost as much as I like coffee.”

“What you drank wasn’t coffee,” Dorian scoffed. “But I have some tea that I’d be willing to share, if you’d be amenable, though I’m not sure a great lummox like you could appreciate its subtle flavors.”

Bull’s grin never wavered. “I’d love to.” 

* * *

findingDori: So…we’re moving in together

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: Dorian…dear…when I said “hit that”, I did not mean “find you a sugar daddy”

findingDori: It’s a long story. But he seems to genuinely want to help me, without sex.

findingDori: He was actually upset when I suggested it.

2Mae_ornot_2Mae: …All right, this I need to hear.

findingDori: Fine. So it started with a call from dear old dad… 

* * *

The move out did not take long, since most of the furniture came with the apartment and had to stay, including the Murphy bed that folded into the wall, so Dorian only had to move his belongings—mostly books and clothes.

Bull had borrowed a truck, since his bike couldn’t hold much more than its passengers, even with the extra-large saddlebags. He also insisted on carrying the heaviest boxes, while Dorian carried bags and repeatedly reminded him to be careful. Bull just smiled and said “yes, Tama,” and continued to be careful. Dorian made a mental note to research the term later—apparently it was a reference to the Qun’s version of a mother figure, but also priestesses and sex workers? He decided not to ask.

They had discussed the study and the terms of an agreement, and the only reason Dorian had agreed to move in was when Bull had relented and accepted that Dorian would pay him rent and end the lease on his current apartment for the year. If things went to shit, at least Dorian would have the initial deposit from the research to find a new place, and wouldn’t be paying rent in two places. The landlord looked almost relieved to see him go, which made no sense, since Dorian was a model tenant.

The move in took a little longer, but that was due to Dorian trying to start unpacking before everything was unloaded, until Bull convinced him to just wait until the truck was empty.

True to Bull’s word, Dorian was given the spare bedroom, which was comparable in size to his studio apartment, minus the kitchen. Unfortunately, they would share a bathroom, but at least there was plenty of counter space.

After confirming with Vivienne, they quickly fell into a sort of routine: Bull would get up early for his morning exercises and tease Dorian for getting up later, even as he made them a pot of coffee. Then, Bull would gather his things and head to the library or his mentor’s office, and Dorian would go to the coffee shop to work for a few hours before he too made his way to the library.

Bull still flirted, but never pushed, and Dorian still scoffed and rolled his eyes, all while not-so-secretly enjoying it.

This tentative routine remained relatively unchanged for a scant few days before Dorian returned home—and wasn’t it a stunning, gut wrenching thought that the apartment already felt like a safe place—to an eclectic crew of every known race, though Bull was not in his normal spot on the couch.

Several unknown faces turned confused frowns his way. He froze in the doorway, heart rabbiting in his chest, fingers tight on the messenger bag he held defensively in front of his body. Had his father already grown tired of waiting for him to “come to his senses” and sent these agents to retrieve him? How had they found him? What had they done with Bull? Maker, he’d never forgive himself if Bull or anyone else was hurt because of Dorian’s unreasonable, controlling father…

As his thoughts raced and circled, as he remained mute with panic clutching at his throat, as the dark-haired elf’s frown deepened, Bull appeared from the direction of the bathroom, walking relaxed and easy. He smiled when he saw Dorian, but that smile began to fall when his gaze caught on the death grip Dorian held on his belongings.

“Hey, Dorian. Shit, sorry, I forgot to warn you that the Chargers were coming over.” He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head, approaching him slowly to give an escape if he needed it. “We have a weekly movie night, and it just…slipped my mind. Habits, and all that.” When Dorian didn’t run away, Bull stood in front of him, hand peacefully at his side, partially blocking the view of the others, and lowered his voice to a rumbling murmur only for the two of them. “If they need to go, I’ll tell them. Or you can join us. Or go to your room. No hard feelings, whatever you choose.”

Dorian’s eyes locked on the steady in-and-out movement of Bull’s chest, his breathing unconsciously mimicking him until he’d calmed down to an almost normal respiration rate. Now that he wasn’t devolving into a crippling anxiety attack, Dorian could see the pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table and the drinks almost everyone was holding. He felt foolish, immediately assuming Bull’s friends were dangerous—though he didn’t immediately dismiss that notion with the way that same elf was looking at him—but he schooled his expression into something more poised and relaxed his hold on his bag. “I would hate to ruin your evening… I’ll see myself to my room.”

“You sure?” Bull asked, voice still so damnably soft and understanding.

It touched the still fragile, panicked little thing inside him, and that had his hackles rising to _defend, defend, don’t let them see weakness, don’t let them break you_. “Of course, you great brute, I’m capable of entertaining myself.” Not wanting to hear another word that might finally cause him to crumble, he brushed past and headed straight for what was now his room.

“What’s up with your boy toy, Chief?” he heard one masculine, tenor voice pipe up. Dorian’s back snapped into a ramrod line. Had it been any other day, not fresh after a near-panic attack, he would have turned and responded to the offense with a snappy comeback or witty insult. Instead, this time, he stormed into his room and shut the door with more force than he’d intended. And promptly fell into bed, still shaky with adrenaline. 

[(art by necroman-tic)](http://necroman-tic.tumblr.com/post/150131941622/and-heres-the-other-thing-as-in-most-male)

* * *

Bull winced at the slam of the door, but turned back to the Chargers. “It’s not like that, Krem.” In the relatively short time they’d known each other, he’d never seen raw panic like was in Dorian’s eyes before he’d escaped, but he’d seen that offended round of his shoulders and spine before. He would likely be extra prickly for some time—Bull might need to tread lightly for a while.

When the others shifted, he plopped down into his usual seat on the couch.

“Then what is it like, Chief?” Krem ventured. “Forgive us for assuming, but you never shack up with anyone.”

“He needed help; I’m helping him. Simple as that.”

Dalish jumped in with, “Does this mean we don’t have an open invitation anymore?”

“My door’s open, as always. And the couch is usually free, or we could make a nest of my extra pillows and blankets. I’d never turn any of you away, you know that.” He smiled easy, but knew it was tight with worry at the corners.

“So how long will prissy pants be staying?” Skinner demanded, eyeing him warily.

“Eh…a while. As long as he needs to. We’ll see.” Bull shifted, stretching out his bad leg.

Grim grunted decisively, and that seemed to end the interrogation. Everyone shut up and made themselves comfortable over the floor and the furniture, plates overflowing with slices of pizza.

Stitches queued up the newest animated dragon movie, since it was Bull’s week to choose, and the others only grumbled half-heartedly.

Dorian never appeared from his room, even though he usually showered after he came home. So Bull shooed everyone out early, once the movie was over, but no one really protested, since he hadn’t been able to relax the entire time.

Once he closed the door, he gathered the few leftover slices of pizza on a plate and knocked on Dorian’s door.

The silence was deafening. Bull waited for what felt like a year, but was really only a couple of minutes, before he knocked again, vowing to leave Dorian alone if he didn’t answer that time.

A muffled rustle had his shoulders stiffening in surprise, trying to relax before the door cracked open.

Dorian’s hair was a mess and his eyes looked a bit red, but Bull bit his tongue and didn’t comment. “What?” he snapped.

“I thought you might like some pizza.” He offered the plate. “I’m sorry we only had cheese and pepperoni left.”

Dorian glanced at the plate and sniffed haughtily, but slowly took the plate. “Did your friends already leave?” he asked instead of thank him, but since Bull didn’t want the door slammed in his face, he just shrugged it off.

“Yeah, they weren’t the biggest fan of my movie choice.”

Dorian eyed him skeptically. “Are you certain you didn’t chase them off in some misguided attempt to make me ‘feel better’?” His fingers on his free hand twitched into sarcastic air quotes.

Bull’s lips twitched, but he tamped down the smile, holding a hand to his chest. “Scout’s honor.”

Dorian snorted derisively, but the corner of his mouth curled up. “I highly doubt you were ever a scout. They wouldn’t have had a uniform big enough. And there’s no hiding those horns.”

Bull affected a mocked wounded expression. “That hurts, Dorian. That’s hurtful.”

With a huff of a laugh, Dorian stepped back, body language more open than before. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight. But…” He worried his bottom lip, making it plump up in a way that Bull tried not to sit up and take notice of. “…Thank you, Bull.” A soft whisper, rare in its genuine gratitude.

Bull wasn’t even upset when the door slowly and quietly closed in his face. 

* * *

The weeks passed, and the activities for the study became just another part of their routine, long question sessions that led to other, deeper discussions. Dorian learned just how much Bull _loved_ dragons—and heard the story behind each of the draconic figurines decorating the tv cabinet. And some of the bookshelves. And the window sill. And Bull’s room. Need he say more?

Bull learned some of Dorian’s past—the happy memories of Tevinter, of Felix, but not the real reason he actually left. Never that. Dorian didn’t even want to think about the conversion procedure more than it already plagued his mind.

(Bull also learned that Dorian’s talents did _not_ extend to cooking—he was abysmal at everything—and the mage was unceremoniously banned from the kitchen for anything but making coffee. How could anyone burn water? How?! It was a miracle—or frozen dinners and takeout—that Dorian survived living on his own this long.)

And then came the day for the first home inspection. They’d been notified the day before and hurriedly moved Dorian’s clothes to Bull’s room, but left his books and work on the little desk with the pre-prepared excuse that he used the spare room as a study while they were both working on theses.

In the end, they needn’t have worried. The “inspector” came by and greeted them politely, then glanced through each of the rooms and scribbled a few notes on her pad. They tried not to follow her around, but they tracked her with their eyes. She noticed—as they were fairly obvious—and explained that Professor de Fer only wanted to see if there were obvious changes in their living space over the year. With a little smirk, she promised not to go through their things, as her coworker had made that mistake and was scarred for life after finding one couple’s extensive toy collection, which wasn’t very hidden in the first place.

Bull just smirked and leaned to whisper in Dorian’s ear, “Bet it was nothing compared to mine,” then looked smug as Dorian apparently choked on spit and his caramel skin turned a dark, blushing burgundy.

She giggled at them and went on her merry way, leaving them both to their sighs of relief.

Dorian took the opportunity to elbow Bull in the gut. “I’ll be in my room,” he muttered as he stormed away.

Bull continued to smirk and rubbed the sore spot on his stomach, pleased with himself for flustering Dorian. “I’ll just start moving your stuff on my own, shall I?”

The door slamming was the only response he received. 

* * *

“But…I need Korcari’s _History of Magical Theory for the Primal Elements_ for my thesis. Why can’t I at least make copies of the chapters I need? I already have all I need for the specialties, and I need this book to further elaborate on my comparison.” Dorian’s knuckles turned white with his grip on the counter, trying to rein in his ire and frustration in front of the bald elf who continued to stare at him in disdain.

“That book is part of a collection that is only available to graduate and doctorate students of the university. Since you cannot provide proof of such enrollment, I can’t allow you access.” Dorian wanted to punch his smug face.

“I have my number memorized. You can look me up!”

“You could’ve memorized someone else’s number.” The elf sniffed, looking him over and making Dorian’s skin crawl. “You Tevinters are known for much worse offenses.”

“Listen…” Dorian glanced at his nametag. “Solas. My picture is in my profile, which is attached to my student number. If you’d just look it up—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said without a trace of apology. “I can’t do that.”

“That’s bull—”

“Yep, that’s me,” a deep voice interrupted. The elf’s frown deepened at the same time as a large, warm hand settled between Dorian’s shoulders, smoothing his ruffled feathers. “What seems to be the problem?”

“This sanctimonious arse refuses to lend me the book I need for my thesis! He won’t even allow me to photocopy the pages I need most!”

“And your qunari brute will not be forcing me to bend to your will,” Solas snapped, cool demeanor cracking under the embers of mounting irritation.

“No one is bending to anyone’s will,” Bull soothed. “What can we do to allow Dorian to access the book?”

“I need proof that he is enrolled in a graduate program. As he has no card, I don’t make a habit of believing liars.”

Bull’s hand squeezed Dorian’s shoulder before he could respond, causing him to pause. “Did you leave it at home again?”

“I…might have.” Dorian studied the motivational poster on the wall behind the desk rather than look at either of them.

“What if I checked it out?” Bull offered.

Solas scoffed. “You think I’d believe you’re a graduate over him?”

“No.” Bull pulled out his wallet, and then his card. “But you can believe my ID. Or I can contact my mentor, Professor Montilyet…”

Solas took it and scowled. Without another word, he disappeared, then reappeared with the tome in hand. “If anything happens to this book, I’ll have you both drawn and quartered.” He scanned the book and card to check it out.

“Kinky,” Bull muttered.

The furrows on the elf’s face became canyons of disapproval, yet he still slid the book and card across the counter.

Dorian picked up the book and cradled it to his chest. “Thank you for finally seeing reason.” Bull’s hand on his back began guiding him toward the exit. “Oh, and say hello to your small intestine for me,” he called back, “since that’s how far your head seems to be shoved up your ass.”

Bull barely made it out the door before bursting into laughter. 

* * *

When they returned home, Dorian immediately camped out at the table to dig into his new book.

Bull merely chuckled fondly, as he did when any of his Chargers did something so characteristically _them_ , and endeavored to keep his puttering about as quiet as possible until he sat down to read his own “assignment”—articles on family dynamics among various races and socioeconomic standings.

Hours later, when yawns were creeping upon him more regularly and his eyes ached from focusing for so long, he stood and stretched, articles discarded on the coffee table for now. He checked the late hour and glanced toward the table, only to find Dorian passed out, slumped over that book.

Bull smiled and turned off the lights in the apartment. Carefully, he sat Dorian up—to mumbled protests—and scooped him into his arms in a bridal carry.

“Was workin’…” Dorian sleepily grumbled, never opening his eyes.

“I know, but it’ll still be here in the morning, big guy.”

Dorian hummed and snuggled into his chest. It caused a pang in Bull’s heart akin to when Krem sent him cute kitten videos. The mage was adorable when he was asleep.

With measured steps, Bull carried him to bed, gently laying him down and moving to remove his shoes.

Dorian immediately sighed and turned to cuddle with his pillow.

Bull covered his mouth to smother the awed noise that tried to escape, then slowly and quietly backed out of the room.

He was so screwed…and not in the fun way. 

* * *

“You seem different, Bull.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing, Ma’am?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” 

* * *

Dorian both loved and hated that Bull was the captain of the local rugby team. It was actually how all of the Chargers met and befriended each other; he’d heard that story recently. He loved it because a shirtless and sweaty Bull was a sight to see, but he hated it because just the pure masculine scent of him was enough to have Dorian twitching in his pants and curling up in the nearest chair to hide his reaction. It was bad enough that Dorian began preemptively curling up in a chair before Bull returned home and disappeared into the shower.

But damn his treacherous eyes, because they immediately darted to the bathroom when the door opened, tracking the water droplets racing down a gray plane. Bull’s skin stretched and moved as the muscles beneath flexed and bulged, squeezing the moisture from Dorian’s mouth until it was as dry as the Hissing Wastes.

A low rumbling chuckle had him blinking back into focus, his gaze darting away when he realized he was staring. Again. Damn the lighting for turning his skin darker, because he was certainly _not_ blushing, thank you very much.

“Like what you see? Enjoying the view?” Bull smirked, heading in Dorian’s direction instead of his room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you oaf. The sight of you offends me.”

Bull’s smirk widened. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He glanced down Dorian’s body, his gaze almost corporeal. Dorian shivered. “Yeah, you look real offended…” He paused by the end of the couch, bending to press his hands against the arm for balance. “I think the real offense is no one touching that gorgeous body.”

He leaned a little closer, one bent finger knuckling under his chin, and Dorian found he couldn’t move away, even if he’d wanted to. His breath caught in his throat, held there as he waited for Bull to move, caught on tenterhooks and flesh goosepimpling in anticipation.

“Breathe,” Bull murmured when their lips were millimeters apart.

Fresh air burst into his lungs on a gasp when their lips brushed in the gentlest kiss Dorian had ever received.

Before he could fully process what had happened, Bull was already moving back, out of his personal space. “If you ever want to act on that offense, Dorian, my door’s always open.” He smiled this time, gentle and genuine. And all the sexier for it.

Not sure how to handle the fluttering in his chest and the quivering in his thighs, Dorian fled to his room. 

* * *

“You’re doing it again, Chief.”

“Doing what? What am I doing?”

“That sappy look in your eye. It’s…weird.”

“Aw, Krem Puff, I knew you cared.”

“This isn’t about the ‘Vint, is it?”

“Don’t worry, Krem de la Krem, you’re still my favorite ‘Vint.”

“Oy! Hate to break your heart, Chief, but you’re not my type.”

“I’m everybody’s type.”

“Keep telling yourself that…” 

* * *

Movie nights continued to happen weekly, but only Bull ever said anything about Dorian joining. Bull wasn’t sure if Dorian was shy or just didn’t like his friends, but he always hid in his room as soon as he returned home after their initial meeting.

That’s probably why it happened; he never expected Dorian to be standing, back facing the bathroom, arms crossed, and chatting with some of the Chargers present. And his hair did resemble Krem’s…

And here’s the other thing: as in most male dominated sports, the Chargers tended to greet each other—at least those who were comfortable with it—with a nice, healthy butt slap.

So it made sense for Bull to “greet” Krem on his way to his seat.

Only…Krem was sitting on the other end of the couch, biting his lips and eyes crinkling at the corners with laughter.

And the others—Stiches, Grim, Rocky—had expressions approaching concern. _Fuck…_

Bull hesitantly turned and winced when he caught sight of Dorian’s dark, apoplectic face. He wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or rage or both, but he’d never seen Dorian’s face quite that shade of maroon before.

“Dorian…shit… I’m so sorry. I thought you were Krem. I don’t usually do that without permission—”

Dorian held up a hand that immediately silenced him. Bull watched as he snatched up their bottle of whiskey and disappeared into his room. He didn’t even think to stop him.

Krem finally cracked, guffawing, his stomach cradled in both hands.

Bull flipped him off and took his seat. 

* * *

That was the same night Dorian visited his bedroom for the first time, not blind drunk, but pushing it.

Bull was pretty sure, if he rejected him, Dorian would become a hermit or possibly go out and make bad decisions. So Bull did what he saw as the next best thing: he made Dorian come with his hands and mouth, made him feel good, and—taking no pleasure for himself—tucked him into bed on his side when he passed out, left meds and water on the bedside table, then went to sleep on the couch for the night.

The next morning, Dorian didn’t say a word about the night before, so Bull didn’t either.

However, two days later found Dorian back in his room, much more sober and much more participatory. 

* * *

Bull 8:08pm: talk dirty to me

Dorian 8:10pm: I’m not wearing any underwear b/c you never put the fucking laundry in the fucking dryer like I asked you to 100 fucking times

Bull 8:13pm: kinky

Dorian 8:14pm: Vishante kaffas, get your ass home and I’ll show you kinky

Bull 8:14pm: yes sir 

* * *

A panic attack. Dorian was pretty sure he was having a silent panic attack. Or was on the verge of one. He’d begun to have…feelings. Of an affectionate sort. For _Bull_. And they weren’t even _dating_. Technically. They hadn’t labeled it. But he was pretty sure, based on the looks he’d received from the Chargers, he was getting a shovel talk while Bull was in the bathroom. Frankly, he was most scared of Skinner, since she’d never done anything but glare at him. Which, according to Bull, was her default and he shouldn’t be worried.

Bullshit. (In his opinion.)

Yet all of Bull’s ducklings plastered on innocent expressions while Dorian stood silently terrified when Bull returned. Dorian wasn’t sure if he should hide as he usually did instead of finally, actually spending time with them all like he had planned.

Bull’s smile as he patted the seat between him and Krem decided for him, and he hesitantly sat down, back straight and rigid as he contained himself to as small of a space as possible.

About halfway through the movie, Bull leaned close and whispered in his ear, the brush of his breath sending a shiver down his spine, “Hey, Dorian, can you hold something for me for a sec?”

Thinking he needed to set his drink aside to grab more food, Dorian held his hand out obligingly, eyes still on the screen of some crazy action movie with lots of explosions (picked by Rocky, of course). “I suppose I can indulge you for a moment.”

He caught the movement of Bull’s hand near the edge of his vision, but still startled when Bull’s fingers tangled with his, his cheeks immediately flaming.

“B-Bull!” he hissed, only to get hushed by the others around them.

Bull smiled gently, understanding. “Want me to let go?”

Did he? Dorian glanced at the others, none of whom were focused on them, though Krem had a little smile curling his lip that was at odds with the standoff on screen.

None of them cared, he realized. Rather, they cared, but only about Bull’s happiness, not that they were two men holding hands, who kissed and pleasured each other in that apartment, and who didn’t know each other six months ago.

He felt Bull’s grip loosen—he’d been silent too long—and he squeezed tightly in response, ducking his head and whispering, “No. I…” But he didn’t know what to say. Was there anything to say? So he squeezed again.

Bull just smiled brightly and held his hand. 

* * *

Dorian followed the gentle tug of Bull’s hand toward their room—no, _Bull’s_ room, he reminded himself. He had no claim on the space when they weren’t officially together, even when he spent most nights there. Even when Dorian knew, terrifyingly without a doubt, that he loved Bull. (And Bull’s response when he’d said as much was to drag him to bed as Dorian fought not to feel disappointed that Bull didn’t return the sentiment. But he hadn’t shared his heart for a tradeoff, and he hadn’t been kicked out, so he was content).

Now, though, Bull had brought him flowers—thankfully not any that he was allergic to, because wouldn’t that be unromantic—and murmured in his ear that he wanted to try something different. And Dorian, as gone as he was, readily nodded, since Bull so rarely asked for something he wanted.

When they reached the bedroom, Bull turned and gently wrapped those massive arms around him, and Dorian’s breath hitched as it always did at the size difference between them.

“What is it you want to try?” Dorian purred, voice husky with arousal, as he slid his arms up and up to loop around Bull’s neck just to feel the stretch.

Bull’s grin was knowing as he slid one hand to rest between Dorian’s shoulders—Dorian would swear just for the hitch in his breath Bull _claimed_ to hear. “I want you to top.”

Dorian blinked up at him, sure he’d heard wrong. “You…what?”

With a kiss to Dorian’s nose, Bull smiled fondly and stroked his back; Dorian could’ve purred. “We don’t have to, big guy.”

“No!” Dorian tightened his grip around Bull and shook his head. “No, I want to! I just…never thought you’d want…something like that…”

A chuckle, not to mock or embarrass, caressed his hair. “You a mind reader now?” His brow arched teasingly. “I like a lot of things. I like giving you what you want.” Dorian leaned into the fingers Bull brushed against his cheek, his voice a low rumble when he continued, “I want to share this with you, try lots of different things. I love you, ya know. And I’ve never…done that kind of thing before.”

Dorian looked up sharply, analyzing Bull’s face for any sign of humor or deceit, but all he found was a softness to Bull’s features and a lopsided little smile aimed at him. “…What?” he breathed, his voice lost in his throat.

“Need to clean your ears out?” Bull teased, cupping his cheek. His brow furrowed slightly as Dorian subconsciously leaned into his hand. “Have I not…said it? Shown it?”

“Not…” Dorian licked his lips. “Not in so many words, no.”

“…Oh. I’m sorry, kadan, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” A gentle kiss, as if Dorian were an easily bruised fruit, was pressed to his lips. “Forgive me?”

“Of course…amatus.” Dorian surged up on his toes to kiss him deeply, a kiss that was interrupted by Bull’s elated smile.

“Bed?” he rumbled.

“Bed.” He pushed ineffectually at Bull’s chest, but the qunari merely huffed a laugh and backed up until the mattress against his knees had him sitting.

Dorian straddled his lap and immediately took advantage of their now similar heights, bringing their lips together passionately. He moaned as Bull held him tightly and fell backwards onto the bed, but he never let their mouths separate for more than a second. His fingers darted nimbly down the buttons of Bull’s shirt, pushing it off that broad chest as calloused hands shoved Dorian’s shirt up his back. Regrettably, the movement of his shirt forced him to kneel up and drag it over his head, tossing it aside without a care if it wrinkled. He was happy to note that Bull had done the same as he dove back in for more kisses.

Time blurred as he lost himself against Bull’s lips, and before he knew it, they were both naked and hard and panting into each other’s mouths.

His name was a prayer on Bull’s lips as he slipped slick fingers inside him, preparing him as slowly and gently as Bull had ever stretched him. He drank in all of the soft little noises that poured from Bull’s mouth as he was teased.

“Dorian…” Bull panted. “I’m good. You don’t have to—”

“Hush.” He gently pressed his fingers against Bull’s lips, then stretched up to kiss him so softly and lovingly that it had Bull’s breath hitching. “Let me take care of you half as well as you always care for me.”

Bull didn’t immediately respond, but carefully cupped Dorian’s cheek in his hand with an unreadable, soft expression on his face. “…You’re wonderful, ya know,” he murmured, voice warm without a trace of dishonesty.

“But of course,” he tried to shrug off the compliment, “I’m always amazing.”

“You are.” It was said without a pause and Dorian could feel his cheeks warm, but Bull wouldn’t let him hide his face. “And I want to feel you.”

Dorian nodded wordlessly and withdrew his fingers to reach for the lubricant as Bull adjusted and spread his legs a bit more so Dorian could get closer.

He didn’t startle when Bull sat up and took the lube from his hand, but it was a near thing, especially when Bull met and held his gaze as he wrapped a slick hand around his erection to get him ready.

Bull’s gaze felt like it pierced down to his very soul, but rather than find him wanting, it made him feel captured and desired, and he discovered he couldn’t look away from that intense stare.

When Bull finally released him, he moved forward, marveling at his massive body as they joined.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Dorian bowed over his body with a shaky breath, resting his forehead just below Bull’s chest. Bull rumbled a low groan and gently stroked his hair, giving him all the time he needed.

When Dorian finally lifted his head and slid his hands down to Bull’s hips, Bull looked up at him with a crooked smirk. “Doing ok?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” he replied, rocking his hips to settle into a slow rhythm.

Bull groaned in response. “Oh, I’m great. Just keep…doing what you’re doing, big guy.”

“That’s…rather the point.”

Bull laughed a bit breathlessly. “Fuck, I love you.”

With his cheeks flushed from the overwhelming emotion that came over him—the happiness at having _this_ with someone he loved, who loved him, who made him breathless with awe and disbelief—he thrust his hips harder. He wanted Bull to feel as good as he did.

“Oh, yeah, you’re so good, Dorian,” Bull groaned, horns scraping against the headboard as he continued to murmur praises.

Dorian wanted to hide his face, to conceal how Bulls words warmed him, how they made his cock twitch and his heart flutter, but Bull’s hands were there again, holding his face so carefully and forcing him to meet that relentless, loving gaze.

Before he knew it, Dorian was coming from the intensity of it all. Damn Bull for knowing just how to push his buttons…

He allowed Bull to gentle him for a moment with light strokes to his head and arms, careful not to oversensitize him, but he could feel Bull’s erection still hard against his stomach.

Wanting his amatus to find completion, and once he’d mostly regained his breath, he began to kiss down his ample stomach to his destination.

“Dorian, I’m good, you don’t have to—” Bull began, but fell thankfully silent when Dorian held up a hand.

“Bull…you have made it abundantly clear that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, you insufferable man, but I very much want to do this, so will you kindly shut your mouth and let me blow your mind?” He briefly worried that he’d overstepped, that maybe Bull stopped him because he didn’t want it and was too polite to say so, but the grin that stretched across his features quickly laid those fears to rest.

“Then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.” He took Dorian’s hand and kissed his knuckles, then placed that hand on his erection.

Dorian smirked, teasing his fingers over the tip. “You might want to hold onto something.”

He only gave Bull a moment to wonder before he was teasing with his lips and tongue. He used every pleasurable trick he knew, until Bull was making guttural noises that no longer sounded like words and his thighs were quivering with the effort not to thrust and potentially injure Dorian.

Pleased with the response, Dorian finally wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, stroking with his hands, until Bull exploded over his tongue and down his chin with a thunderous cry.

Dorian’s smirk could be called nothing but smug when he pulled away and settled at Bull’s side as he waited for him to catch his breath.

“…Damn,” Bull finally managed when he was breathing somewhat normally.

Dorian preened. “Yes, I am quite talented, aren’t I?”

“Understatement.” He raised his hand and Dorian surprisingly allowed him to stroke his hair again without a complaint, merely nuzzling against his shoulder with a content sigh.

Dorian tensed slightly when, after a few moments, Bull ventured, “Is this…cuddling? Are we cuddling right now?”

“I do no such thing!” Dorian replied, though he made no move to separate their bodies. “I just…know you enjoy the proximity, and I thought I might as well indulge you.”

He could feel the grin as Bull pressed a kiss to his head. “Whatever you say, kadan.” 

[(art by kidvoodoo)](http://kidvoodoo.tumblr.com/post/150128087045/adoribull-minibang-2016)

* * *

 “Did it hurt?”

An exasperated sigh, followed by, “Let me guess…when I fell from Heaven?”

“No.”

“…What then?”

“Did it hurt when you fell for me?”

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum_.”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things.”


End file.
